Dr. Thomas nodded slowly. "The thing is, Ron... I can't help you with that."
"Why not?" Ron countered, his brow furrowing. "I thought you had answers for everything."
"I have many," Thomas admitted, "but there is someone else who can tell you more—someone who actually possesses it."
Ron's eyes widened. "Someone other than me has the crimson eyes?"
"In one eye only," Dr. Thomas clarified. "And by my estimate, he can only harness about nine percent of that power. Perhaps even less."
"Who is it?" Ron pressed.
"DA," Thomas replied simply.
"What!" Ron reclined, his mind racing. "But... I remember seeing Dream with crimson eyes."
Dr. Thomas shook his head. "No, that was likely her Power Mimicry. She couldn't sustain it for long. Even for DA, nine percent is a strain. For Dream to manifest it in both eyes? It would have broken her."
"How did DA find out about it?" Ron asked.
"I don't know." Dr. Thomas turned his gaze toward the sky, his expression unreadable. "DA is as much a mystery as the man who first manifested those eyes: Ricky Racon. I met him once, yet I can't recall a single feature of his face."
"How is that possible?"
Thomas looked back at Ron, his tone shifting to something more firm. "Ron, you should focus on the goals at hand."
Ron took a breath and nodded. "First, I'm going to retrieve Dream's book. Then, I'm changing my identity and moving to another city. I'll find the rest of the answers myself."
"Then you had best hurry," Thomas said. "Go and get the book."
"I want Yardy to do it," Ron decided. "With his abilities, Ava won't be able to detect him. He can slip in and out."
Dr. Thomas offered a faint smile. "As you wish. I will inform him."
"And the city?" Ron asked. "Where should I go?"
"I think you should move to the place your people call the Capital," Thomas suggested.
"The Capital. Right." Ron turned to leave, but stopped, glancing back at the doctor. Are you evil, or aren't you? he wondered. Dr. Thomas only smiled brightly in return, offering no answer.
Ron teleported back to the hills overlooking Hero Town. He stood there for a long time, eyes closed, conjuring the image of his younger self—the boy he had only seen in fleeting visions. He managed a small, sad smile.
"Ron."
He turned to see Yardy standing nearby, holding a heavy bundle.
"I got it," Yardy said.
"Thanks." Ron took the items. It was a collection of memories: photos of his and Dream's family, a picture of him and Ava, and snapshots of Carter, Locki, and their friends. Tucked beneath the photos was Dream's book.
Ron's eyes grew misty as he ran his hand over the cover. Yardy placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and gave a single, firm nod.
"I have to go now," Ron whispered.
Yardy reached out, handing him a bag. "Take this. It'll help you get started."
"Thanks, Yardy." Without looking back, Ron turned and disappeared into the depths of the woods.
A few days later.
The Capital was a world of grey. A heavy, relentless rain blurred the skyline, turning the streets into a sea of bobbing umbrellas. A man came out of the train, he wore a black shirt, black pants and rain coat and a newsboy cap. His eyes turned crimson.
He took a deep breath and started to moving through the crowd, his face obscured by his cap. He looked like any other traveler, unremarkable and silent.
He stepped into a quiet restaurant and took a corner table. A waitress approached, pad in hand. "Sir? Would you like to order?"
The man didn't look up. He pointed a finger at "Pineapple Juice" on the menu.
"One pineapple juice?" she confirmed. He nodded.
As she walked away, the man stared out at the deluge. First, I need a roof over my head, he thought. His eyes drifted to a discarded newspaper on the table. The headline read: RAIN SHOWS NO SIGN OF STOPPING IN THE CAPITAL.
He flipped through the damp pages until he found the real estate section. He quickly memorized a phone number and an address. When the waitress returned with his drink, he instinctively pulled the paper back to the front page, startled.
"Thank you," he murmured.
The woman noticed him staring at the weather headline. "It's been like this for years, sir," she said with a sigh. "No one knows why. Just endless clouds and dark skies. We only see the sun once in a blue moon."
The man nodded, waiting for her to retreat before draining the glass in three long gulps. He left a few bills under the glass and stepped back out into the rain.
The address led him to a old theme, modest, well-kept house. He knocked, and moments later, an elderly man opened the door.
"Can I help you, son?" the old man asked.
"I heard you were renting this place?"
The old man's eyes brightened. "Please, come in, come in."
They sat in a living room that felt warm despite the gloom outside. "The house is in great shape, sir," the man noted.
"I've done my best to keep it up," the old man said with a bittersweet smile. "But I'm actually looking to sell it, not rent. I've spent my whole life here—grew up here, got married here, saw my grandkids here. But I'm all alone now. It's time to move in with my son."
The man didn't hesitate. "I'll buy it."
The old man beamed. "Well now! What's your name, young man?"
The man reached up and pulled off his cap, revealing his face for the first time.
"My name," he said, "is Aaron."